


Midnight Bruises

by AllTheNamesIWantedWereUsed



Series: Little Hamilton Things [10]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Burr is so done, Homophobia, Laurens Is Hurt, M/M, Physical Abuse, TW:Homophobia, Tumblr Prompt, Tw:Abuse, burrens - Freeform, rarepair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 13:12:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9125200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllTheNamesIWantedWereUsed/pseuds/AllTheNamesIWantedWereUsed
Summary: In which John shows up at Aaron's door, and Aaron doesn't turn him away.Based on this prompt:You showed up at my place in the middle of the night with bruises and blood and you won’t say what happened so I just lead you into the bathroom and clean you up





	

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING; Physical Abuse and Homophobia
> 
> Based on this prompt: You showed up at my place in the middle of the night with bruises and blood and you won’t say what happened so I just lead you into the bathroom and clean you up 
> 
> Source: woah-au

Aaron Burr was sure he was going to die of a heart attack by age thirty-five.

 

All because of John freaking Laurens.

 

John was a walking disaster. He always seemed to have a new cut or bruise every time Aaron saw him. Aaron was hard-pressed to remember a time when John didn’t have either a black eye, or a split lip, or both.

 

He would know, of course, because John always showed up at his door, usually staunching the flow of a bloody nose, asking Aaron if he had an ice pack somewhere.

 

Honestly, John Laurens was going to give Aaron gray hairs.

 

Aaron was quietly reading Charles Dickens by lamplight, in the middle of the night. He’d always had sleeping issues, so he’d stay up reading until his eyelids drooped and he fell asleep.

 

Unfortunately, just as he was nodding off, a knock came at the door, startling him into consciousness.

 

Stranding up and stretching with a groan, he tottered towards the door, slid back the lock and opened the door.

 

“What the- _Laurens!_ ”  

 

John stood at his door, sporting a brilliantly purple shiner, blood leaking from his nose and a jagged line in his lip, finished off with various bruises and cuts.

 

He was also holding his arm in an odd way.

 

“Wh-” Aaron was at a loss for words. “What the hell happened to you?”

 

John swallowed hard. “You got an ice pack?” he rasped.

 

“An ice- get the fuck in here!” Aaron exclaimed. He pulled John inside (by his good arm).

 

“Come on, he said exasperatedly, leading John towards the bathroom.

 

When they entered the bathroom, Aaron smacked the toilet seat and cover down.

 

“Sit,” he ordered, pointing. John raised an eyebrow.

 

“That seems vaguely unsanitary-”

 

“Don’t even, you know I clean obsessively,” Aaron snapped. “Sit your ass down, Laurens.”

 

Obediently, John plunked down on the closed toilet while Aaron rifled through his medicine cabinet. Pulling out some gauze and rubbing alcohol, he left for a minute, coming back with an ice pack, a glass of water and two ibuprofen caplets, which John gratefully downed.

 

“What happened, Laurens?” Aaron demanded as he handed the ice pack to John, who immediately pressed it to his black eye.

 

“Lee had it coming to him.”

 

“Please, this wasn’t Lee,” Aaron scoffed. “You could kick his ass easy, you’ve come away with way less in scuffles with him before.”

 

John shrugged noncommittally. “Guess he’s gotten better.” His gaze dropped, not meeting Aaron’s eyes.

 

Aaron tried to soften his tone. “Come on. John,” he said, more gently. “Who did this?”

 

John just shook his head. Aaron sighed and soaked some gauze in rubbing alcohol, pressing it to John’s broken nose, who hissed and jerked away.

 

“Sorry.”

 

“S’fine,” John mumbled.

 

“Well, was it Bellamy?” Aaron guessed, before shaking his head. “Never mind,  Jonathan wouldn’t do that. Jefferson? Maybe it was-”

 

“My dad,” John burst out, causing Aaron’s hand to freeze, effectively shutting him up. “It was my dad.”

 

Aaron stared in shock, unable to say anything. He knew Henry Laurens was a homophobic dick, but had no idea he’d take his views out on his son.

 

“We were arguing,” John said simply, bowing his head. “He kicked me out.”

 

Trying to recover, Aaron straightened up and continued to clean John up.

 

“I guess you’ll have to stay here then,” he said neutrally.

 

John looked up at him, shocked.

 

“No, Aaron, I can’t let you-”

 

“I mean it, John,” Aaron said. “Besides, you’re here often enough, you might as well move in.” He granted John a rare grin.

 

“Are you sure?” John asked.

 

“Absolutely positive.”

 

John looked as though he wanted to argue more, but knew by the look in Aaron’s eyes that he was serious.

 

“Well, maybe just for a little while,” he conceded.

 

Aaron smiled in triumph.

* * *

 

That night, John slept in Aaron’s bed (by Aaron’s orders: “My house, my rules. Guests take my room,”).

 

And Aaron curled up on the couch, reading Charles Dickens until his tired eyes slid shut.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comment/kudos, please!


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